


everything under the sun

by Shinsun



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: +other past/minor relationships - Freeform, Anxiety, College AU, Depression, FTM Kagami, LGBT+, M/M, Mental Health Issues, NB Alex, NB Himuro, Past Aomine Daiki/Kuroko Tetsuya, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Smoking/Vaping, Trans Character, Underage Drinking, college shenanigans, for real this time, he who has never projected on fictional characters let him first cast a stone, pastel punk au, the main pairing don’t officially meet til chapter 4 let’s pace ourselves, there's so much self-projection in this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:08:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28026018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shinsun/pseuds/Shinsun
Summary: College is a strange and awkward and beautiful time no matter where you come from. For some, it’s a new beginning, for others, just a continuation of the same old struggles.Or, Kagami has no idea what he's getting into when he agrees to meet the rest of Kuroko's friends.
Relationships: Aomine Daiki/Kagami Taiga
Comments: 9
Kudos: 38





	1. nothing to lose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kagami attends his first official college party as a college student... featuring a forgettable face, a man of many sparkles, a baby lumberjack, and two trucks having sex.
> 
> (Chapter title from [fools](https://open.spotify.com/track/7a0VLUciBUdE2RmpEnod9O?si=PI7asFHDTPC-GaFTqn-ZpA) by ufo ufo.)

There are basically three reasons people go to parties: boredom, free food, and an excuse to get out of the house. 

Everything else, all the gratuitous human interaction, dancing, drinking and getting laid or blazed (or both), are just the natural results of deciding to go. But it comes down to those three things.

Now, Taiga’s not saying he won’t take free food, but usually he ends up going because he’s given no other choice. He’s not a fan of the social ordeal itself, but someone has to take up the depressing mantle of designated driver, and that someone is usually him. There are forces outside of his control that make sure of it. 

Tatsuya, who has no shortage of boredom on any given day, and also isn't above using blackmail to get what he wants, will keep on poking and pestering until he gives in, and the general existence of Nebuya is even more persuasive. Hard to argue with a human wall in a thrash metal shirt who looks like he bench presses trucks.

So Taiga agrees… even to picking up the rest of Tatsuya's crew on the way, because he’s just nice like that.

Hayama fistbumps him through the window before vaulting into the crew cab, Nebuya follows with a grin like a friendly snarl, and Mibuchi is too busy squabbling to avoid taking the middle seat and whacking his head with every speed hump to even say hello. Tatsuya, meanwhile, snatches the aux cord like fucking clockwork and procedes to blast some hipster shit no one’s ever heard of through Taiga’s speakers, throwing his head back to hit the high notes and punching the ceiling at yellow lights. 

Taiga can barely hear the GPS politely informing him of upcoming turns with four overlapping voices and the bass cranked to the max, but before he knows it he's rolling up to the house in question, a tidy suburban two-story overlooking a strip of very untidy lawn, strewn with colorful trash and an inexplicable pair of discarded blue jeans near the curb. He doesn't think he wants an explanation.

"Whose party is this again?" he shouts over the music. Tatsuya is quick to fling his seatbelt off before they’ve even stopped moving.

"Friend of mine!" he shouts back. "His parents are out, he said it's chill to bring a plus-one!"

Before Taiga can ask (out loud) about the plus-three crammed in his back seat, they've all piled out onto the sidewalk, presenting him with the choice to either join them or turn around and leave them to their devices. Which might be the smarter course of action, all things considered. There probably isn’t anything for him here, there almost never is, and anyway, he's pretty sure he's only on the hook for dropoff services.

On the other hand... he's starting his first semester at a new school in two days. There's a high chance at least a portion of this party's attendance will be his classmates. Not that he's super jazzed to go and meet a bunch of frat boys who are probably drinking too much now to remember him later, especially since he has, as Tatsuya puts it, "all the social skills of a wet paper towel." Tatsuya's cruel, but he's also rarely wrong. 

In the end, he's not sure what convinces him to stomp his parking brake, leave his truck and fall in behind the rest on the way up to the house, except for force of habit. He follows Tatsuya because he hasn’t got anyone else, even when it means being led into things he'd probably rather avoid. 

For better or worse, this will be his first college party as a bona fide college student. He might as well go in with open eyes and just see what happens.

* * *

Kuroko Tetsuya is not great at parties. He accepted this fact about himself long ago. 

Not because he dislikes them, quite the opposite. He loves large gatherings, the bigger the better, but the fact of the matter is despite his enthusiasm, they just can’t seem to love him back.

In his own defense, it’s a pretty challenging affair to navigate a social gathering when no one seems to notice or acknowledge your existence. He's been jostled and elbowed more times than he can count; stepped on, tripped over, or otherwise simply ignored and forgotten about, even when he raises his voice. He can't so much as set down his drink for fear that someone will throw it away, or decide to chug the whole thing, but none of those are factors that will ever stop him from showing up. 

Because for all the discomfort and stress it entails, he truly does love the party scene. He loves the smoky shimmer clouding the recycled air, the pulsing hum of bass, the hot, restless clutter of the dance floor where the rhythm of his blood sings like a voice he can still hear: _step right, now left — oi, that was my foot._

He loves watching people let go and have a good time, whether they know him or not. Being part of the crowd while remaining at the same time an observer is a personal hobby, like every collection of faces and swaying, upraised arms can be added to a catalog of stories he will brush against but never feature in. There’s no other place where the lines between anonymity and intimacy are so blurred, and within these snapshots of abandon, these brief and beautiful performances for no one, Tetsuya's mind is a magnet pulled in all directions. He's never more present than when he's all but completely dissolved.

Parties like these are also some of the only occasions to see all of his friends together in one place (or at least, they used to be). He's already spotted Midorima on the ground floor, in a neatly-pressed button-down and slacks, loudly claiming that he came for "networking purposes" to anyone who will listen. Per usual, he appears to either be holding his nose and bearing with the surrounding atmosphere of vaping and Jell-O shots, or failing to notice it entirely, because he's certainly not participating. 

That's quite alright, because Tetsuya isn't either. He doesn't come to these things to get drunk, he's drunk enough on the spectacle and the music pouring in his ears, and doesn't require anything else.

Not to say he’ll hold it against his friends who do need a drink in hand to make it a party, though. When last he left Kise he was on his sixth, or so he said. His slightly-slurred words and the restless shaking of his hips and head gave Tetsuya no reason to disbelieve him, but he's been known to lose count much sooner. He's also been known to fall off of tables, which is why Tetsuya had worried when he made a beeline for the kitchen, but he'd just ended up in a playful shouting match with the DJ on the way to refill his cup. 

So that’s two down. He hasn't yet laid eyes on the elusive host of the party, who has a reputation not just for frequently drinking larger people under the table — though there aren't many who are larger than Murasakibara — but for smoking a whole joint by himself in one go, and folding a pizza in half that one time. 

Having been blessed with very forgiving and often absent parents, he’s never missed an opportunity to take advantage, offering up their pristine household to everyone whose number he has saved and then some, as one might offer a rose bush to a woodchipper. 

It's still rather early in the evening, but the place has already been destroyed. In the dim light of the parlor where the sound system is set up, Tetsuya spotted the glittering carpet of discarded wrappers and cups on the floor, underneath the dozens of dancing, tapping feet, but that's nothing compared to the absolute massacre that must have hit the kitchen. Tetsuya is a bit apprehensive to approach it, if he’s honest, though it is the place he’d be most likely to find who he’s looking for. 

Plenty of time for that later. Knowing Murasakibara, the speakers will still be shaking long into the dawn hours, with food and drink flowing right through until morning. Right now, the night is young, the music is intoxicating, and in Tetsuya's mind, the possibilities are endless.

* * *

It takes all of two minutes for Tatsuya to abandon Taiga, as soon as he recognizes another buddy of his, who loudly asks if he wants to come check out the above-ground pool and whisks him away without waiting for an answer. 

It's just as well that Taiga isn't close enough with Mibuchi or Hayama to latch onto them as foster friends, because he's seen the kind of shit they get up to when they come over to Alex's basement, and he really doesn't want any part of that. Nebuya is only slightly safer, but Taiga's not quite desperate enough to risk being cornered by a clump of drunken metalheads, and that means he’s left with only one option: going it alone.

Not that any of that is surprising to him at this point. This always happens. Tatsuya drags him out with a wicked combination of guilting and peer pressure, promises to include him, then ditches him the second something else comes up. It's part of the reason he's not a fan of parties.

The other reason being that parties are a whole lot less interesting if you're the only one there who's sober. You need a certain level of fuzziness to fully appreciate a room of weed smoke and drunken twenty-somethings, otherwise you find yourself standing in the corner, noticing the crumbs in the carpet and wondering who's going to be cleaning that up. The rest of it seems pretty run-of-the-mill, as far as antics go.

Taiga’s seen some crazy parties, some real ragers, in the past. Being long-term friends with Alex and Tatsuya seems to simply come with that caveat, but while they and their usual company seem prone to downing everything from vodka to floor cleaner and emerging glazed and giddy and grabbing the walls, he hasn’t ever really joined in.

Tatsuya has never made a thing about it, or tried to change his mind, but he's also made no secret of the fact that if Taiga is going to be boring company, then sooner or later he's going to get bored of him. Nothing personal. It's a vicious cycle that always results in Taiga leaning against a wall, clutching a cup of room temp soda and reflecting on the fact that of the few friends he's managed to make in his life, almost all have turned out to be egocentric assholes. He wonders what that might say about him. 

He stops brooding and chipping flakes of polish from his fingernails when out of the blue, he hears someone call out his name. He didn't know he knew anyone here apart from Tatsuya and his gang.

"Kagami-kun?"

Definitely not one of Tatsuya's gang; he can't even remember the last time someone added the honorific. Come to think of it, this person could be the first.

It takes a second for him to find the owner of the voice, until he starts looking down, and is confronted with an undersized person in a very oversized ballet pink hoodie, staring at him with the intensity of an inquisitive child and an impatient teacher, all at once.

"Um…" he says.

The person's face falls, if only slightly, to become resigned.

"You don't remember me, do you?"

It takes a hot second, but once he finds the time and place for the huge blue eyes he's looking at, Taiga blinks in surprise.

"Kuroko?" he asks, staring into a face from last summer, and feeling a sheepish smile break across his own. "...You did something to your hair."

"I didn't," Kuroko says serenely, seeming unbothered by the excuse. "It's okay, most people forget me within seconds of meeting me. I'm glad I left some kind of impression."

"You did, you were..." Taiga says, scrambling for what was so remarkable about the completely unremarkable person at the horrendously expensive indie café Tatsuya used to frequent, "... _literally_ the sanest person I'd met since grade school."

"Then you must have some very eccentric friends," Kuroko says. "...Or you learned very little about me indeed."

"What d'you mean?"

"Never mind." Seeming amused, Kuroko stands on tiptoe to peer at what Taiga's drinking (or what he isn't), and then rocks back down on his heels. "I take it you're not much of a social drinker?"

"Uh. No, not really," Taiga says, looking down at his cup self-consciously.

"Me neither," Kuroko says. "People tend to assume it's because I'm a lightweight. ...With your build, though, I imagine that's not an issue."

"Um… nah," Taiga says. He can't help but feel put off his stride by how casual he's being. Just like when they'd first met as strangers with nothing in common except friends with better things to do. "But, designated driver, so, you know..."

“I see,” Kuroko says. “Although, I haven’t had the pleasure of Himuro-kun's company tonight.”

Squinting at his face doesn’t reveal to Taiga where that cognizant leap might’ve come from, but he straightens with a snort and doesn’t ask. 

“Yeah, he and the others are blowing me off, as always.”

“The others?”

“His usual squad. Big muscle-head and the two most chaotic people I’ve ever met.”

"Ah,” Kuroko says. “I think I might consort with some who could challenge for that title."

"You?" Taiga laughs. "That I'd have to see."

"Well, as a matter of fact —" 

"KUROKOCCHI!"

Taiga jumps, sloshing carbonated corn syrup over his knuckles, as a whirl of blond hair and gold sequins crashes into Kuroko with the force of a comet, and the grace of someone who’s been drinking whatever they can get their hands on for at least the last hour or so. 

Taiga knows the look, and thinks one day he’ll have it down to the minute. 

"You left me all alone!" the visibly drunk person wails, clutching onto Kuroko's shoulders like a man drowning at sea. "I turned around and you'd just disappeared!"

"I didn't disappear, Kise-kun," Kuroko says flatly, apparently taking no issue with being shaken like a rag doll by a person with almost as much glitter on his face as on his blinding shirt. "You started talking to Takao-kun and went with him into the kitchen."

"But you should've come with meeee!" the guy called Kise whines, pouting first at Kuroko, and then at Taiga's shirt, before he shifts his unfocused gaze higher. Taiga crosses his arms over his chest, as much as he's able with a drink still in his hand.

"Makin’ new friends?" Kise leans in to ask Kuroko, in a much louder voice than his covert face suggests. "Or’d we adopt a baby lumberjack?”

Taiga looks down at his flannel and back at Kise, but before he can open his mouth to retort (or ask about the “we”), Kuroko beats him to it. 

"This is Kagami-kun. We actually met some time ago," he says, failing to address the blatant commentary on Taiga's appearance.

"Then why haven't we seen him before?"

"Well, Murasakibara-kun has—"

"Who?" Taiga interjects, mostly to remind them both that he still has ears. 

"You'd be hard-pressed to forget Murasakibara-kun." Switching his attention effortlessly back to Taiga, Kuroko seems to completely disregard the whole-ass person he's got dangling off his sleeve in favor of continuing the conversation. "If you don't remember him for his height, you'll certainly remember his black hole for a stomach."

" _Oh,_ so that's who Tatsuya's new smoking buddy is."

"...I would presume so. And also the host of this party, I might add."

"He always hosts," Kise grumbles. "You know, if we could just _fit_ more people in my place…"

"I don't think your roommates would be too thrilled about that."

"So, you do things like this a lot?" Taiga asks, bringing his cup up to his lips to cover the potential awkwardness. A decision he immediately regrets when he gets a mouthful of its flat, tepid contents. 

"Oh, yes," Kuroko says, looking up just in time to see the face he makes as he swallows. He pauses, and then gives him a bright, if bracing smile. "...How about we see about getting you a refill?"

"Hell yeah!" Kise says, throwing his arms up in celebration. 

"I think you've had quite enough, Kise-kun."

 _"Boo,_ Kurokocchi! No narcs allowed!" 

Ignoring his stream of obnoxious complaints, Kuroko steers Kise by the arm, and motions for Taiga to join him as he heads toward the kitchen. 

After a moment of consideration, Taiga takes him up on it. He's used to having to play the third wheel, but it doesn't feel like that's what Kuroko is trying to make him into. He doesn't know him well enough to say what he _is_ trying to do, but if nothing else, he's no longer the only one here who's sober. 

This party just got interesting.

* * *

If there's any wisdom Tetsuya tries to live his life by, it's this: nearly any moment in time can be made a little more enjoyable if you don't have to spend it alone. 

Having spent his fair share of social gatherings sequestered to the side, he thinks he understands better than most when Kagami says he's being blown off “as usual”, in a tone of voice that says he's not content with his lot, but has become (perhaps by force of sheer repetition) resigned to it. It speaks to Tetsuya on a personal level, but it's not out of pity that he takes Kagami under his wing. 

After all, he's been that person before, too. 

Introducing Kagami and Midorima goes over surprisingly well. Tetsuya had expected hostility, given what he knows of their respective personalities, but they both kind of just look over, acknowledge the other as a kindred spirit— as in, “I know, I’m not sure how I ended up here tonight either” — and settle into indifferent silence. 

Tetsuya counts it as a win. Sometimes, the goal isn’t for everyone to be instant BFFs. Sometimes, the best-case scenario is not making any new enemies. He’s learned to set his expectations accordingly. 

He wouldn’t say that Kagami and Kise have become nemeses yet either. In fact, he’s not sure where they stand with each other, and thinks they might be likewise undecided. Kise, for his part, is too drunk for anything he says to hold much validity, and Kagami hasn’t sworn off him, but has been staring at him for the better part of an hour, seeming vaguely irritated and puzzled in a way that Tetsuya can’t deny is entertaining. 

"What I don't get," Kagami is saying presently, cradling his cup of soda to his chest as he watches Kise plead and cajole and tug on Midorima's shirtsleeves to try and entice him to dance (his success rate so far is a whopping zero, and likely to stay that way), "... is how you'd even become friends with a guy like that."

"What do you mean?" Tetsuya asks, because it's not like Kise is the kind of person who'd ever be unpopular. Maybe he's trying to imply that Tetsuya is.

"Well, just… _look_ at him." Tetsuya looks, and is rewarded by the sight of Kise being dragged by the taller Midorima clear across the kitchen, as if he weighs no more than the jacket on his shoulders, and isn't worth any more thought. "He's so uncool."

Tetsuya can't help but laugh, "And I am cool?" 

He can remember, quite clearly, a time when his circle of closest friends would throw around words like "cool", but he doesn’t think he’s ever heard it used to describe him. It does take him back to high school, either way. 

"I mean… I think so," Kagami says, much to his surprise. When he looks up at his face, though, he's frowning ruefully. "Tatsuya’d probably disagree."

"Hm. I suppose it’s a matter of taste," Tetsuya says. "And it's a good thing I'm not trying to appeal to Himuro-kun’s, seeing as I hardly know him."

"You're better off, trust me."

"As for how I became friends with Kise-kun…" Pausing thoughtfully, Tetsuya decides to throw him a little backstory, for context. "We all went to the same private high school together."

"'All'?"

"Kise-kun, Midorima-kun, Murasakibara-kun and I," Tetsuya explains, "...as well as a few others you haven't met yet."

"I haven't technically met Murasakibara, either," Kagami points out. "He completely ignored me when I came to his work."

"Yes, he does that," Tetsuya agrees soberly. "He says people in the café disrupt his focus.”

"And yet he spent the whole time chatting with Tatsuya just fine."

"...Well, you are most likely to find him here," Tetsuya shrugs, deciding to let that slide. "He can't seem to stay away from a snack bar… even when it's his own bar."

"'Bar' is right," Kagami says, eyeing the bottles of alcohol strewn across the counters.

Before Tetsuya can settle on a suitably neutral response to that, Kise abandons his efforts to corral Midorima out of the kitchen and drifts over to them, red-faced beneath the swaths of sparkles on his cheeks.

"Spoil-sport," he huffs, crossing his arms and sulking dramatically against the wall. "How 'bout you, Kurokocchi? Wanna dance?"

"Maybe later," Tetsuya says gently. "I think it would be impolite to exclude Kagami-kun, after inviting him to join us."

Kise's feverish gaze sweeps up and down Kagami, as if he'd forgotten about him in the couple minutes he was away.

"Any chance you're the next Astaire under all that grunge?" he asks, putting his weight on one hand so he can lean in close to Kagami.

“...You need to update your references,” Kagami says, “and get the hell out of my face. You smell like booze.”

Kise backs up, though not without a loud, indignant snort, “Who you gonna put against _Fred Astaire_?” he slurs. “Nureyev? Travolta?”

“Those sure are words you just said.”

“Oh my God!” Kise gasps, clutching his free hand to his spangled chest. “Kurokocchi, we can’t be friends with him, he’s too uncultured!”

“Who says I wanna be friends with you, anyway?” Kagami scoffs, and turns toward Tetsuya, as if for reassurance. Instead, Tetsuya just sighs gravely. 

“Unfortunately,” he says, “it is kind of a package deal.”

* * *

There are facts Taiga is resigned to, whenever Tatsuya becomes hell-bent on drinking himself into oblivion, which seems to happen entirely too often while he’s out in public. One of these is that at some point, Taiga is going to have to step in and rescue him before he makes a fucking scene. It's a special talent of his, and whether it happens sooner or happens later, it's an inevitable outcome Taiga awaits like a gymnast with a crash mat.

This time, he gets about three hours of relative peace, in which he actually starts to relax and enjoy Kuroko's company (and even, to a degree, the other two) before Tatsuya finally delivers.

" _TWO TRUCKS HAVING SEX!_ " he's bellowing at the top of his lungs, swaying dangerously on top of the dining room table, " _TWO TRUCKS HAVING SEX! MY MUSCLES, MY MUSCLES—!_ "

"Tatsuya!"

"Hm?" Tatsuya breaks off, but he doesn't stop swinging his arms, dripping water from his shirtsleeves and the ends of his hair. 

"...Why are you all wet?"

"'Cause Fukui's a little bitch!" Not bothering to elaborate on that, he feels around in his soggy pockets, as if searching for something, before finally giving up and snatching a pretzel stick from the bowl at his feet.

"I gave my phone to Leo so it wouldn't fall out," he slurs, placing the pretzel stick between his teeth. " _Not_ as a free pass for fuckboys to push me in the pool!"

"Okay," Taiga says, yanking him down by the arms before he falls and breaks his neck. "I think you're done drinking for the night."

"I'm not drinking anymore," Tatsuya says importantly. "I'm _smoking._ "

"No, you're not." Plucking the pretzel stick from his lips, Taiga tosses it aside with an exasperated sigh. "Where are the others?"

It’s not an easy task to wrangle the rest of the group back outside and into the car, and Taiga can understand why. The party’s probably not winding down any time soon; the music is still thumping and people are still dancing and drinking like the night won’t end and 9 AM classes won’t come bite them in the ass in two days. But he thinks, as a general rule of thumb, when your self-proclaimed best friend starts smoking pretzels and screaming off-key Lemon Demon lyrics, that’s a pretty good indicator that it’s time to leave. 

Everyone's become much more agreeable by the time he drops them at home, with the exception of Tatsuya. That would be because in the fifteen-ish minutes between leaving the party and arriving back at Alex's place, he passed out cold, and is currently drooling on his seatbelt with his forehead pressed to the window. 

"Okay…" Taiga sighs, resisting the temptation to just yank the door open and dump him on the pavement like groceries.

Carrying him up the drive is a bitch and a half, especially when he's putting in no effort whatsoever to help, or be any less limp and heavy. By the time he staggers through the door with a snoring, useless Tatsuya slung around his shoulders, Taiga is very much ready to be done with tonight.

He's greeted by the image of Alex sprawled on the sofa in nothing but their boxers, which is far from the most disturbing thing he's seen all day. They raise the Switch over their head in acknowledgement of his presence, and take one look at Tatsuya before sliding off to sit on the floor. 

Gratefully, Taiga takes the offer over trying to lug Tatsuya’s corpse down the stairs to his own bed. It'll be enough of a task just to undress him so he doesn't smother in his sleep.

"Didja have fun, baby boy?" Alex asks, thumbs whirling busily as they stare at their screen. "Make any new friends?"

Heaving Tatsuya onto the couch behind them, Taiga just shrugs and stretches out the dent he put in his spine. It's been a long night, but for once, that thought doesn't come to him with a crushing weight of exhaustion or regret. 

Actually, when he thinks back on his unlikely reunion with Kuroko, he can't help but smile. 

"...Yeah," he says at last. "I think I did."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! At long last: the enormous, convoluted, projection-riddled college AU I've been meaning to write for the past two years. I got the first five chapters set up during NaNoWriMo, which may be just the kickoff this story needs. Y'all, I'm so excited for this one. You don't understand. I've been waiting so long to do this and it really means a lot to me.
> 
> Also if you're unfamiliar: [Two Trucks](https://open.spotify.com/track/1s5A0u1dnAeVNur5nPkCpD?si=qJTwx6KUR7G_YcNpwC1Fzg) by Lemon Demon. You're welcome. 
> 
> Comments are always a delight. <3


	2. I look quieter than I feel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone prepares for their first day of classes in their own ways... featuring rodent bites, a terrible car being driven terribly, a brief discussion of gender, and some functional alcoholism.
> 
> (chapter title from [Dread Sovereign](https://open.spotify.com/track/3utofKCLvPbz6gpUYNjnhV) by Shearwater)

Hands down the best thing about living on campus has got to be the park above the student dorms. It's most of the reason Tetsuya decided to live there instead of making the commute from home, with the convenience of being next door to his classes also being a factor. 

Though it may have started its life as concrete, the whole roof has been converted into an open grassy area with benches, trees, and a bird's-eye view of the lake behind the Performing Arts building, where he can sometimes see ducks swimming, and people tossing frisbees or walking their dogs around the paths. It’s fast becoming one of his favorite places, especially since summer rolled in; perfect to unwind by himself, or throw an impromptu picnic the day before the new semester starts. 

And what would any self-respecting rooftop picnic be without company?

"Can I ask you guys a favor?" 

"I don't know, _can—?"_

"Of course," Tetsuya cuts in, before Takao can finish. "What do you need?"

Takao flicks his empty salt packet at him, but Tetsuya is too concerned with the wealth of dread in Sakurai's downcast eyes to retaliate.

"Can you help me go off the grid?"

Ogiwara snorts into his soda can, and immediately recoils. " _Fuck,_ it went up my nose, that hurt..." 

"Why do you need to go off the grid, Sakurai-kun?" Tetsuya asks, ignoring Takao's unsympathetic cackling and Ogiwara’s sniffling complaints.

"...I messed up," Sakurai confesses somberly. "Last night —I don't know how, I always check to make sure the door is locked — I don't know why I didn't, unless he's somehow figured out how to open it, I mean—"

"Slow down," Tetsuya says. "What exactly happened?" 

"Last night, while I was gone, Joker got out of his cage... and bit my roommate when he tried to put him back."

"Okay…" Takao stops laughing long enough to say. "That's not that bad, though."

"He had to go to urgent care."

"Oh shit, really?" Ogiwara leans forward, suddenly all interest. "Are rat bites that bad?"

"I assume," Tetsuya says thoughtfully, just as Sakurai opens his mouth, "that the concern is more about contracting a disease than it is bleeding out."

"I… yeah," Sakurai says. "They gave him a tetanus shot, but you can also get this thing called rat fever…"

"Sounds kinda badass," Ogiwara says. "Maybe he'll turn into a mutant."

" _Rat-Man!"_ Takao exclaims, eyes shining. "And every full moon, he transforms into a giant were-rat and fights crime."

"A superhero that only fights crime once a month?" Tetsuya asks skeptically.

" _None_ of you guys are helping right now," Furihata, who had until this point been quiet, decides to point out, with a meaningful head-tilt at Sakurai. He's hugging his knees to his chest and staring down at the grass in front of him, looking rather hopeless.

"What's the big deal?" Takao asks, perhaps a hair more insensitively than Tetsuya would have. "It's not like you're the one who bit him."

"You don't understand," Sakurai says morosely, still looking down like he can stare through all the cement and rebar to the ceiling of his own bedroom. "We're barely on _speaking terms_ , he'll never talk to me again after this. One semester in and I've already ruined my life." 

"Not your whole life," Ogiwara offers, in what Tetsuya is sure he imagines is a comforting voice. "Just however long you end up living together… and maybe the rest of college. I dunno, how likely are you to run into him after freshman year?"

"We have the same major," Sakurai mumbles against his knees, sounding thoroughly miserable.

"It's alright, Sakurai-kun," Tetsuya says. "I can say with certainty that Aomine-kun won't hate you over something like this."

"...You can?" The note of faint, desperate hope in his voice would be heartbreaking, if Sakurai didn't have a crisis like this nearly every week. Tetsuya nods at him with feeling.

"For one thing, it wasn't your fault. And for another, Aomine-kun loves animals; I've seen him get bitten by much larger ones and shrug it off the very next day. He's not the type to hold a grudge." 

Sakurai actually looks quite heartened by this, a tiny bit of light returning to his desolate eyes as he sits up a little straighter.

"Really?"

"Yes," Tetsuya says. "It's going to be fine."

"Okay," Sakurai breathes out. "That's good. I just — I really can't handle… confrontation…"

"Oh, honey, we _know_ ," Takao says, at the same time Ogiwara asks, "Aren't you going into _pre-law?_ "

"Speaking of Aomine," Furihata cuts in, seeming to think (probably correctly) that the best thing to do now is change the subject, "I didn't see him in your Story last night, Kuroko. Wasn't it his friend's party?"

"He didn't show," Tetsuya says, fussing with the laces of his shoe in the grass. "It's been awhile since he's come to any of our gatherings."

There are one or two faces he's gotten pretty used to missing, honestly... though being used to it doesn't mean he's stopped noticing.

"Why don't you invite him to study group? Maybe he just needs to be asked directly." 

"I suppose…" 

"I-I could ask him," Sakurai volunteers, only a little shakily. "I mean, if he really isn't mad about what happened…"

"I'm sure he isn't," Tetsuya says, in lieu of bringing up his extensive track record of wasted effort, because maintaining a front of optimism requires that he also extend it to others. Just because he keeps striking out doesn't mean someone else won't have better luck, though he's not sure how he's going to feel if Sakurai does succeed where he's consistently failed.

"By the way, who was that really tall guy you spent the whole night hanging out with?" Takao interjects. "You only said hi to me once, I'm hurt."

"That's because you were too busy chasing Midorima-kun around, asking for a selfie," Tetsuya points out baldly.

"And I got one, too!” 

Tetsuya remembers seeing the evidence on his Instagram feed. Takao's scrunched eyes and stuck-out tongue, titanium stud on full display; Midorima's crossed arms and pained expression beneath the rabbit ears perched on his head. If it weren't such a commendable feat that he'd snapped the photo at all, Tetsuya might have gently suggested a retake. 

“But seriously," Takao insists, "who was that guy, your new boyfriend?"

"His name is Kagami-kun. I believe he's a transfer student—"

"— and totally your type," Takao wheedles.

"Name one guy on campus who _isn't_ Kuroko's type," Ogiwara says, lounging back idly on his hands. 

"Point," Takao agrees. “But were glued to him for _hours._ Is he a really great conversationalist, or what?"

"Not particularly." With a small smile to himself, Tetsuya folds his hands in his lap and looks out at the surrounding lawn. He still thinks the grass on the roof is more vibrant than it is on the ground, like he did on his first day. "He doesn't seem like he knows anyone yet, I just… didn't want him to feel left out."

"You're such an altruist."

"Old news," Ogiwara sighs, with the same note of pure fondness that always undercuts his sarcasm. His arms fold in, as though giving up on supporting his weight, and he flops unceremoniously on his back.

"I think it's nice," Sakurai pipes up, looking over at Tetsuya. "Maybe you should ask _him_ to come to study group."

Tetsuya blinks, and then tips his head up, examining the sprawling tree branches that rustle overhead, the sky peeking through the leaves in little scraps of blue.

"Hmm," he says thoughtfully. "Maybe I should." 

* * *

There are times that Taiga is glad Tatsuya solicits him for rides as often as he does. It's in the best interests of society that he's kept off the road, even when he hasn't been drinking... and every time Taiga finds himself sitting passenger in his military assault vehicle, he's viscerally reminded why.

Tatsuya drives a gigantic, army green tank of a Land Cruiser which, by Taiga's most _generous_ estimate, was probably built in 1976. The thing rattles if it does over forty on the freeway. It guzzles gas and belches exhaust like a goddamn tractor. It has no Bluetooth, sun roof, nothing, but it does have a roll bar mounted to the ceiling, in case its massive wheels and boxy frame cause it to flip over. 

Taiga might be less averse to the abominable automobile if Tatsuya didn't choose to drive it at speeds that would be terrifying in a car that _didn't_ shake your teeth in your skull, or sway like a fucking mine cart around corners. He rarely keeps both hands on the steering wheel, rarely wears a _seat belt_ , and apparently has never even heard of using a turn signal. (Taiga supposes it's possible that his ancient blinkers are no longer functional). 

Every time Taiga’s sense leaves him long enough to let Tatsuya behind the wheel, he thinks it'll be the last mistake he makes in his life... and this time is no different. They’ve only just peeled out of the driveway and rounded the corner before he becomes certain he’s going to die, without ever having experienced college, or real adult life with real adult friends, who won’t try to plaster him to the road in return for his services the night before. 

At least he'll have some company when he dies, because Nebuya and Mibuchi have also agreed to take their chances at the prospect of being delivered to some cheap fast food, potentially in one piece. Taiga almost feels bad, like he should have handed out liability waivers before they got in; he's the only one besides Tatsuya who actually knew what they were signing up for. 

"Question!" Mibuchi shouts as they cut a turn like a poorly-assembled bumper car. "What absolute _jackass_ gave you your driver's license, and where does he live?"

"Plot twist, it was a woman!" Tatsuya yells back. The yelling is necessary because of the aforementioned shaking and rattling that makes Taiga doubt there's an actual engine under the hood; it sounds like a bunch of loose bolts and gears tumbling through a washing machine.

"Oh, well, forgive me for assuming!" Mibuchi retorts, gripping the back of Taiga's seat for want of any other handholds. 

“You’re forgiven!”

"It's not so bad if you close your eyes," Nebuya puts in. "Kind of like a rollercoaster!" 

"You're insane," Mibuchi hisses, gritting his teeth as the whole car jolts over a pothole in the road, “and I’m exclusively riding with Taiga from now on!"

"I second that," Taiga says sympathetically. "I always forget how bad it is 'til it's too late to jump out."

"Alex still holds the record for worst driver, though!” 

"Barely!" Taiga turns toward Tatsuya, raising his voice meaningfully. "At least they actually take the time to _indicate their turn!"_

"I'm gonna be honest," Tatsuya says, "I don't know what these sticks beside the steering wheel do, and at this point I'm too afraid to ask."

"Wait, Alex uses they/them pronouns?" Nebuya, the only one not presently losing their shit in some way, interjects. "She… I mean they, never told us."

"Well, yeah, they’re nonbinary, but they’re cool with 'she' or 'they'," Tatsuya explains, twisting to look at him over his shoulder. "Whereas me, I lean transmasc, but I'll answer to most things."

"Eyes on the road—!" Taiga snaps, grabbing for the steering wheel to stop them from careening over a curb.

"Huh," Nebuya says. "I guess that goes a way to explaining the weird dynamic your house has."

"Yeah, between the three of us, we’ve got like half a gender," Tatsuya shrugs, maneuvering his great shuddering shit-machine into a parking space Taiga thinks is meant for a much smaller vehicle. He turns off the ignition, and the beast rattles to a stop. "Now, which of you fucknuggets wants some fucking McNuggets?"

"After that scene straight outta _Mad Max_? I might never eat again," Mibuchi groans, holding his stomach and looking a little greenish now that the car has stopped moving.

"I get dibs on your fries!" Nebuya says, throwing off his seatbelt and bounding out the door. After taking a deep breath, and a moment to feel blessed that he survived to see Tatsuya crash another day, Taiga follows.

* * *

“I still don’t know how you do it, Ki-chan,” Momoi laments around her straw. 

"Hm?" Ryouta asks, fitting his legs through the armrests of his chair and hanging his arms off the back, because sitting correctly in things is for other people.

“Tetsu-kun says you drank enough to water a football field last night. How can you be a totally upright, functional person the next day?”

“Dunno,” Ryouta says. “My liver’s as crazy as the rest of me, I guess.”

"Can't argue with that…" Sipping her boba with a thoughtful expression, she fixes her gaze on the little table between them, and then looks up at him cautiously. "Did he seem alright to you?"

"Who? Kurokocchi?" Pulling a long slurp of his own, Ryouta takes the time to chew and swallow his tapioca before he answers. Both of them know full well that Kuroko could be having the time of his life while wearing an expression more suited to an interview or a morgue, but he does have other tells. And since it's Momoi asking, she’s probably expecting more than a yes or a no answer. "Sure, I mean… he said hi to all of us, and he spent a lot of time hanging around with this guy Kagami."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," Ryouta says, and proceeds to describe Kagami to the best of his drunk memory: "He's… butch."

"Butch?"

"Yeah, think Abercrombie and Fitch model, minus the good hair. He was also a bit of a grouch."

"You're not doing a very good job selling this guy," Momoi says, while Ryouta returns to his drink.

"Well, Kurokocchi seemed to like him."

"Hmm…" He watches her stir this around, along with her straw, probably logging the information and making a note to dig deeper on her own later. 

So there was something in there that caught her interest... Not that that’s unusual; Momoi does seem to take interest in everything and everyone around her. She’s been a data mine as long as Ryouta has known her, keeping so many tabs on the people around her they might as well be color-coded. Of course a newcomer popping onto her radar would be worth looking into, especially a newcomer in Kuroko's orbit.

The next time she speaks, she's addressing her cup on the table, with a smile so knowing it's on the verge of smug. Now that _is_ unusual.

"We'll probably be seeing a lot more of him, then."

Ryouta blinks, and lets the straw drop out of his mouth.

"Okay, spill.”

“What?”

“You only look like that when you’ve thought of something really interesting,” he says. “So either wipe that smirk off your face, or tell me what's up."

* * *

"I'm just saying," Nebuya is just saying, "they'd appeal to a wider market if they did. It's good business."

Taiga rubs his knuckles into his eye sockets as Mibuchi counters, "McDonald's selling alcoholic beverages would not be good for business. This is a family establishment."

"You talk a big game, Leo, but I've seen you get wasted on shit they could probably put on the dollar menu."

"If you're talking about tiki mixers, they have _twice_ the ABV your shitty macho stiffs have. And they don't come cheap."

"McMai Tai," Tatsuya says absently, with a mouth full of fries. Taiga opens his eyes to glare at him, because that's a dangerous road to start down with this particular group.

Sure enough, Mibuchi takes the bait, "McZombie has a better ring to it, I think."

"What about McJäger?" Nebuya chips in, demonstrating a clear lack of knowledge of the tiki drinks he was just bashing.

"Isn't he a famous singer?" Mibuchi smirks, which makes Tatsuya laugh, while Taiga just groans and hides his face in his hands again. 

He really needs new friends. Why does he have such a hard time making new friends? These aren't even _his_ friends, they're Tatsuya's and he’s just piggybacking. Is this the best he can do?

Since grade school, he's been tucked pretty securely under Tatsuya's wing. It used to be really bad; he used to follow him like a lost puppy and imitate his every fad and fancy. He was the cool older sibling, and so his word was law and he could do no wrong, but the older they get, the more Taiga has tried to branch out and become his own, separate person. 

Never as easy as it sounds.

There's a kind of safety in Tatsuya's familiar brand of bullshit. Even when he's driving like a maniac or drinking like it's the end of the world, Taiga will still choose his company over anything unknown. He can count on Tatsuya to always be Tatsuya, and as long as he thinks that way, he'll be the insecure little brother asking to tag along with the big kids. 

It's never more obvious to him that he needs to cut the cord, like... yesterday, than in moments like this. When he's the only one not drinking, the only one not smoking, the only one not laughing at the concept of a McJack 'n' Coke, or whatever the hell they've moved onto next. He's always the odd one out, and he's never felt peer-pressured, but he's never exactly felt peer-included either.

Meeting Kuroko at that party last night gave him some hope, that he's growing up and moving past his inhibitions about spending time with other people. People who aren't the last thing he's hung onto from childhood, in the shape of an alcoholic theater kid with bangs. It's a good sign.

Maybe he can keep this ball rolling. Make some actual effort to learn names, sit at occupied tables and sign up for group events. Maybe this is the part of his life where he stops being the loner or the… fourth wheel? And forms some legitimate relationships of his own.

Alex likes to say that college is where you meet your people. Honestly, Taiga's not sure who "his people" might be, but as he sits with Tatsuya's drinking buddies in the back of this McDonald's, working on his last Quarter Pounder with absentminded diligence, he's still sincerely hoping that they're right. 

Tomorrow's the first day of the fall semester. Tomorrow, classes start, and all remaining bets are off. 

"Technically, everywhere’s BYOB if you don't get caught," Tatsuya is saying, winding up to aim his trash at the wastebin four tables away. 

Tomorrow can't come soon enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God I miss midnight McDonald's runs... I miss college shenanigans. I suppose that's largely what this fic is for.
> 
>  _"Between the three of us we have like half a gender"_ is a direct quote from my ex-roommate Nik. The green military assault vehicle belonged to one of my old coworkers (who prefaced giving me a ride with “if we flip over this bar will save us, see?”), and rat-bite fever happened to my friend Lex, whose housemate at the time had pet rats. I can’t make all of this shit up.
> 
> Comments are super appreciated, thanks for reading!!


	3. now I'm melting through the floor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Classes begin, and so does a brand new subset of Kagami’s troubles... featuring Sakurai as his very own incarnation of Icarus, and Aomine as himself.
> 
> (chapter title from [Dissolve](https://open.spotify.com/track/7pBrj5rt4SSxXwFKOyZfHR) by Absofacto)

There's a guy sleeping at Taiga's table. Loudly. 

He'd come into class looking for a seat in the front because he had thought, he had _hoped_ , that it would be the surest bet for the people around him to not act like total shitheads. He'd chosen this table specifically because it was mostly empty, with its only other occupant being, you know, _asleep._ But it's starting to sink in now, as it probably should have before, that college really is a different ball game than high school. Here you get shitheads at both ends of the room. 

How one person manages to make such a nuisance of themself while being completely unconscious is beyond Taiga, but he thinks after today, he'll have to propose a whole new category of ways that a human being can be disruptive. If the obnoxious snores weren't bad enough, the fact that the guy is also so distracting to look at would put him over the top in terms of sheer annoyance.

Not that Taiga keeps staring at his desk neighbor because he's exceptionally attractive. He has no way of knowing if he is, because he's got his face buried in his arms on the table. The most he can make out is a shaggy, shortish length of once-dyed hair, and a wild assortment of piercings in the ear closest to him. That's not enough to turn his head, because he can honestly say the same for himself. In fact most of the people in his social circle could stand in for pin cushions in some way; it comes with the territory. 

No, what keeps drawing his gaze, whenever he gives up trying to focus on the syllabus to glare at the guy, is the crumpled jacket he's currently using as a pillow. For one thing, it's black with radioactive green piping — the kind of green that looks like it should glow in the dark and could possibly serve as reflective tape in a pinch. For another, it's covered in so many pins and patches he's astonished he can tell what color it is in the first place. He can't possibly read all of them; it would take him all day, and there are several that are obscured, contorted or otherwise illegible, but the ones he can make out are contenders for some of the grossest things he's ever seen. Featuring such classics as “ _Eat shit and die”_ and " _Suck it up, buttercup",_ alongside things like " _Cunning Linguist"_ and “ _To know me is to blow me"._ One of them just says " **_TITS_ **" in the biggest, boldest, pinkest text imaginable.

Now... as a general policy, Taiga tries not to judge other people for their taste, especially before he's even met them. That being said, there are exceptions to any rule. And there are people he _has_ met who he fully believes deserve to be judged, by him and also possibly by God. It's a layered issue. Anyway.

All this to say that the display of increasingly vulgar adornments, combined with the fact that he can't seem to be bothered to show up for class, and instead chooses to make it miserable for everyone else, are enough to solidify this guy as the biggest asshole Taiga has had the misfortune to run into yet. 

And this is only day one.

He's still bristling when he breaks for lunch, grabbing his bag and marching out of the classroom that's now become tainted, as far as he's concerned. So much for putting himself out there and making new friends. In fact, as he stalks through the labyrinth of hallways that don't look at all familiar from orientation, he's having a hard time remembering now why he was so eager for classes to start up. Just so he can sit in them and contemplate if he shouldn’t poke the jackass beside him 'til he stops snoring, on the off chance that he'll be even more insufferable while awake? Anyway, shouldn’t it be on the teachers to keep some kind of order in their classrooms—?

He breaks off mid-internalized formal complaint as his warpath abruptly takes him to the end of the building. 

As in, the hallway ahead ceases to be a part of the terrestrial world, and instead continues as a self-contained bridge suspended over the parking lot four stories down. 

Right. He vaguely recalls his tour guide mentioning something about a skywalk connecting the main campus to the dorms. It had been during the student housing portion of the tour, so he'd mostly tuned it out. He's also seen it from the outside, he thinks, but those few glimpses didn't prepare him for how high he actually is off the ground. When they put all the windows at eye-level, it's an easy thing to forget.

Stepping out into the air is purely a matter of curiosity, because if he remembers right, there's a popular restaurant somewhere on the other side, but there's also a cafeteria in the main building. He has no real reason to cross the bridge now, but there's something so tempting about floor-to-ceiling windows facing out over dozens of miniature cars and people. It reminds him of the skyscrapers on his visits to the city, of leaning over safety rails despite his father's warnings so he can stand on his toes and stare down forever.

The glass is as cold on his forehead here as it was there, and looking down he can almost imagine he's flying above the droves of students scurrying like ants on the ground. There's something kind of peaceful about it, the irritation of his first class falling away as he watches his breath fog the windowpane.

"Lose something?" a semi-familiar voice cuts in, and he straightens so fast he almost bashes his nose on the glass. Which would just be _perfect_ today. 

The voice, it turns out, is semi-familiar because it belongs to Kise. He's a lot more… _vertical_ than he was the first time Taiga saw him, and is wearing either a very sparkly shirt, or the top half of a leotard tucked into his yoga pants. His hair is up in the tiniest man bun Taiga has ever seen, advertising the rows of silver hoops in his cartilage, and two perfect crescents of tinsel blue eyeshadow.

“Are you just… made out of glitter, then?” is what Taiga settles on asking, leaving things like " _what are you doing here?"_ to the side until he's reconciled with the eccentric ensemble staring him in the face.

Kise looks down at himself, and then back up, a grin carving a deep line into his cheek. 

“Performing arts major,” he says, like that’s supposed to explain something. Taiga raises his eyebrows at him, and he continues airily. “I know, the freaks are supposed to be confined to next door. Rest assured, I’m here on business.”

"What business?" Taiga asks warily, squinting at him. 

Seemingly out of nowhere, he produces a wrapped cloth package and holds it out, as if for Taiga's inspection.

"Lunch date with Kurokocchi!" he beams. "He invited you too, huh?"

"Uh —"

"Did you get lost? Oh, yeah! You're not at the dorms, are you?"

"Uh," Taiga repeats, and actually gets more than one syllable in this time: "No, I live off campus…"

"Okay, we can go together!" Looping his arm around Taiga's before he can protest, he skips him across the bridge — “ _we’re off to see the wizard”_ style — before depositing him at the foot of a stairwell he doesn't remember hearing about on the tour.

"Where does this lead?"

Kise just smirks, and reaches for his elbow.

"I can walk," he adds, quickly jerking his arm away. 

Kise pouts at that, but he lowers his hand before starting up the stairs. Taiga follows once he's sure the threat of being dragged has passed. 

There are more stairs than anticipated. They're winding and alarmingly steep, and Kise takes them two at a time, setting a brisk pace that has Taiga struggling to keep up. He wouldn't say he's necessarily _out_ of shape, but he doesn't know many people who are _in_ shape to be running full-tilt up multiple flights of steps. Kise evidently being the exception.

"By the way," he's saying, without even breaking stride, "I wanna apologize for the other night."

"What?" Taiga pants. "Why?"

Kise pauses before the next flight, though he doesn't seem tired. "Well... it _maybe_ wasn't the best first impression I could've made…"

"Which part?" Taiga asks, gratefully stopping to catch his breath. "The sloppy drunk act, the name-calling, or trying to force me to dance?"

"Oof..." Kise winces, his face falling. "I don't remember it quite like that." He cuts back in with a rueful smile before Taiga can open his mouth, "...Which would be part of the sloppy drunk act, wouldn't it?"

Turning around to keep Taiga in sight, he continues up the stairs (backwards, and therefore slow enough to walk), his expression shifting to something that might be his version of contrite.

"Sorry, I’ve been told I’m a bit of a bitch when I drink."

"That's okay," Taiga shrugs, sighing out about half a decade of forbearance. "I'm used to it."

“...Should I be concerned?”

“Only if you and Tatsuya decide to go on a joint bender, I guess.”

Kise laughs, “I wasn’t planning on it.”

The last flight ends in an unremarkable metal door, complete with exit sign, like every other Taiga's seen on campus. After all that buildup, he's almost disappointed. Kise, though, is practically vibrating beside him.

"You'll love this," he says, leaning on the crash bar and flooding the little hallway with a blast of natural light.

On the other side is a wide expanse of brilliant green grass, bordered by glass railings and clusters of rustling bushes and trees. In the shade there are a couple idyllic wooden benches, and to the side, a stone fountain creates a backdrop of gently pattering water. Here and there are groups of gathered students, talking and eating and goofing off under a boundless blue dome of sky.

It’s picturesque. It’s peaceful in a way that makes the skywalk almost seem cheap, and it’s not like there aren’t other parks by campus, but none with a view that could match this. A few people have gravitated to the edges of the roof, looking out and leaning on the rails, and beyond them, Taiga can see over the tops of buildings, past the winding thread of the highway, all the way to the cutout of the distant skyline.

"I had no idea this was here," he says softly, his voice sounding muffled even to his own ears.

"I know, right?" Kise exclaims, handing him his lunch box and jolting him out of his reverie. "You'd think they'd at least put it in the handbook, or something!"

The sunlight turns him to stained glass; reflecting rainbows off the sequins on his shirt and flashing in his hair as he skips out onto the lawn. He promptly dives into a cartwheel, then transitions to a pirouette as soon as he's on his feet again, and Taiga straight up forgets to be annoyed as he watches the series of spontaneous (and frankly stunning) acrobatics, holding onto his boxed lunch and following him into the sun. 

... _Performing arts major, huh?_

A couple people laugh or call out to Kise when he attempts a finishing backflip and eats shit halfway through, but only one leaves their place in the shade to rush over to him.

"You okay, Ki-chan?" the approaching girl asks as he clambers up inelegantly, a muddy grass stain streaking up his forearm.

"Next time," he grunts, dusting himself off and shaking his unraveling hair back. "Next time I'll get it."

"You say that every time," the girl says, with a downright doting smile. 

Taiga hangs back as she fusses over him, letting the lunch wrap dangle from his hand as he waits to be introduced to (or disregarded by) this new person on the scene. He's honestly prepared for either, and can't begin to fathom why he came here with Kise when he barely even knows him. He supposes he wasn't given much choice.

"Oh, Kagamicchi, this is Momocchi," Kise says, while fixing his hair back into its little bun. "Momoi Satsuki."

" _Kagamicchi?"_ Taiga sputters, in the same instant that the person called Momoi finally takes notice of him. Her eyes are sharp and loaded with intent.

"She has class with Kurokocchi," Kise continues, unconcerned with the fact that Momoi is currently stripping Taiga bare with a single glance, "so we usually eat lunch together. ...Thanks," he adds hurriedly, snatching back his lunch box and breaking the silent interrogation of Momoi's gaze.

"Nice to meet you, Kagami-kun," she says brightly, turning on a dime and fixing him with a friendly, guileless smile. It's utterly terrifying.

"Uh… same," Taiga says, feeling a bit dazed in the face of that.

"Tetsu-kun should be up in a minute," she goes on, still smiling. "I only beat him 'cause I took the elevator."

 _Elevator._ Taiga aims a pointed glare right at Kise, who holds up his hands in self-defense.

"It's not for us!" he says quickly. "It's for—"

"What about you, Ki-chan?" Momoi interrupts. "You must've sprinted to get here so fast."

"Well, we've only got an hour..."

" _We_ do," a third voice cuts in, "but aren't you done with class for the day, Kise-kun?"

Taiga jumps, and he's not the only one. With a loud squawk, Kise leaps backwards and clutches a hand over his chest. Even Momoi goes tense for a second before her gaze falls on Kuroko, who must have either slipped into the semi-circle or materialized out of thin air with no witnesses.

"Oh, there you are, Tetsu-kun," Momoi says, in the moment it takes Kise to regain his powers of speech.

"You could've _said_ something!"

"I did," Kuroko says simply. Then he turns toward Taiga, "I’m glad you could make it, Kagami-kun."

“Didn't know I was coming, honestly."

"Right." Kuroko frowns. "I meant to reach out and invite you, but I think we neglected to exchange contact information the other night, because of…"

"Because Tatsuya."

A tiny, amused grin lifts the corner of Kuroko's mouth, "Because Tatsuya."

Returning his attention to the group at large, he holds up a neatly wrapped lunch box almost identical to Kise's. "Why don't we sit?"

"Well, I didn't really bring —" Taiga starts to say.

"You can share with me if you want," Kuroko offers immediately. "I almost never finish mine."

"Uh —"

"Unless, if you wanted to spend your lunch somewhere else? I'm sorry, I shouldn't have assumed..."

There's a flash of premature disappointment on his face that startles Taiga; an automatic assumption that his presence is the less preferable option that hits dangerously close to home. Like looking in the damn mirror. 

"No," he finds himself saying. "I'll stay."

* * *

So Taiga ends up spending his lunch break in the shady patch of a conveniently planted tree, filling out one corner of the square Kuroko and his friends have made in the grass. He has to admit — even though he's still on the fence about two-thirds of them, and he was frog-marched here more or less against his will — that it is pretty pleasant, actually. The weather's perfect; cloudless and breezy like all late summer days should be, and the view from the roof of the dorms is incredible even from here. He doesn't feel pressured to make conversation, as Momoi and Kise seem to have it covered between them, so he just lets himself sit back and take it all in.

"A proposition for you, Kagami-kun," Kuroko says at one point, pausing with his chopsticks resting on his wrist. It's Taiga's first time seeing his arms without sleeves; they're surprisingly thick for someone his size, and decked out with several chunky leather bracelets.

"Hm?" he says distractedly.

"Once a week during the school year, I hold a freshman study group at my house. Just a couple friends from the more… _academic_ side of campus —"

"Rude," Kise sniffs, between bites of something julienned. Momoi pats his arm consolingly.

"There will be snacks," Kuroko promises, fixing his earnest gaze on Taiga. 

"Yeah?" Taiga says. He's not sure if he's supposed to laugh.

"Yes. I had just… I was wondering if you might like to come this week?"

"...Do I look like I need help that bad?"

"It's usually pretty fun," Momoi chips in. "Besides, it's easier to get work done with other people there."

"Not in my experience."

"Then perhaps you need some new study buddies..." Kuroko suggests, mock-thoughtfully. 

This time Taiga does laugh, "Alright. But I'm mostly in it for the snacks."

"Aren't we all." Following that train of thought, Kuroko gets up and passes his lunch box over to Taiga, presumably for him to finish. Taiga has no idea what might be in it; by now he's too hungry to care. "So, how's your first day of class going?"

The resurfacing memory briefly beats out Taiga's hunger, and stalls his hand as he picks up the chopsticks.

"Ugh... don't remind me," he groans, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. "There’s this asshole at my table who slept through the whole syllabus. Snored like a symphony orchestra, too."

Kise snickers, but Kuroko just looks at him sympathetically as he sits back down. 

"I'm sorry to hear that," he says. “I hope the disruption doesn’t keep you from learning the material."

Stabbing the borrowed chopsticks into the rest of Kuroko's rice, Taiga nods, though he thinks it's more likely he'll call the guy's obnoxious behavior out before then. Hell, if it continues after that point, he might just drop the class.

"How was your first practice, Kise-kun?" Kuroko asks, while Taiga stuffs his mouth angrily with rice.

Across from him, Kise lights up, "It was great! The fall debut is gonna be awesome!"

Kuroko smiles at that, "I look forward to seeing it."

"Midorimacchi said he's gonna help paint the sets, like last time."

Taiga chokes, and has to take a moment to clear his throat before he can speak.

"That guy _paints?_ " 

"Yeah, the same still lives about a zillion times," Kise snorts. "I'd get sick of blocks and vases so fast…"

"He did a few with silk flowers," Momoi says, probably for Taiga's benefit, though Kise is still quick to retort.

"I'd get sick of _flowers!_ "

"He also got into some rather spirited debates with Murasakibara-kun," Kuroko puts in, "about the merits of abstract art. Or lack thereof."

"Murasakibara paints too?"

"Oh, sure," Kuroko says, either disregarding or simply not noticing Taiga's disbelief. "Most everyone I knew in high school pursued art in some form, whether visual, musical, or both."

"I played second clarinet," Momoi volunteers with a tiny, wistful smile.

"Sax 'n' guitar," Kise says, throwing up a peace sign. Taiga blinks, and turns back to Kuroko.

"What about you?"

"I played triangle."

A laugh bursts out of Taiga's chest, before he notices his face is still dead serious. 

"Oh. You're not joking."

Kuroko shakes his head solemnly, "I’m afraid not."

* * *

Sometimes, if he's left alone long enough to think about what he's done, Ryo will take time to reflect on the meaning of his short life. He usually does this while staring into the rat cage.

On one level of their multi-tiered habitat, Batman is curled up in his hammock bed, his furry black side rising and falling rhythmically as he sleeps tail-over-nose without a care in the world. At the top, a fat white wiggle is busily fitting his toes between the bars, nibbling on them with the determination of an animal that has already escaped once and is keen to do it again. As far as Ryo knows, Joker's tiny rat teeth are not capable of sawing through metal, but the manic look in his bulging pink eyes suggests otherwise.

It must be nice, Ryo thinks, to have such simple, straightforward priorities, day to day. Eat. Drink. Dig a burrow. Devise a plot to chew your way to freedom, if you're feeling ambitious. The life of a rat seems so much easier than that of a person, and as he sits on the edge of his bed and watches them, he can't help but feel a bit envious.

Aomine is due to return from class in a few hours, and Ryo still doesn't know what he's going to say to atone for the lapse of judgment that put him in urgent care, with an injection of tetanus toxoid under his skin. He's not good at bringing up subjects that involve him admitting fault, he's never been. Not because he isn't sorry (he is so, _so_ very sorry), but because he's terrified of what Aomine might say to him. Any reassurance he got from his friends was fleeting; it feels null and void when faced with the actual prospect of confronting his roommate.

Maybe he can do something before he gets back. Something to indisputably show his remorse, and make Aomine a little more willing to forgive his transgression. For instance, he could... straighten things up around the house? That would be a nice gesture to smooth things over between them, right? And it's the least he can do, really, to give Aomine some kind of compensation, considering how his injured finger could cause him difficulty if he tried to do it himself. 

Not that Ryo has ever seen Aomine make any sort of effort to maintain their shared bedroom space — or really, do any more work than the bare minimum required to keep his housemates off his case — but that's besides the point. Coming home to a clean, organized space might be just the thing to appease him, and return Ryo to the safety of his good graces. 

With this argument firmly in mind, he sets about attacking the room with the focused urgency of someone who has made a grave error, and has a lot of anxious energy to burn. He throws away Aomine’s trash for him. Stacks his (mostly unopened) textbooks at the foot of his bed. Strips the sheets and gathers the wrinkled mounds of his clothes into a laundry basket, marvelling absently at the sheer number of sweaters he can't recall Aomine ever wearing (finding long-sleeved shirts on the floor at the tail-end of summer is a little bit concerning, but not so much as other items he unearths in his frenzy). When he finds the floor again he runs a vacuum, and finally, clears the mess of empty plates and cups from the electronic keyboard in the corner. 

It's something he's seen Aomine use only once, while wearing headphones, in the dead of night… before the school year began and the exquisite instrument was relegated to a mere end table. He wonders if cleaning it off and wiping it down (which he also takes the time to do) will possibly encourage him to start playing it again. For all that Aomine's share of the room is dominated by music — the aforementioned piano, the frankly impressive array of band T-shirts Ryo scooped up off the floor, the handful of posters and the sleek, cobalt blue guitar hung by its neck beside his bed —it's only on rare occasions that Ryo sees evidence of his interest in it, as proof that his wardrobe and wall decor weren't simply picked out by someone else.

He's about to switch out the last cycle of laundry when he hears a muffled _beep_ from the front door, just before it unlocks. 

In a snap, all the misgivings about what he’s doing come rushing in, and with a tiny squeak of fear, he retreats behind the bedroom door, breathing shallow and rapid. 

What was he _thinking?_ What if Aomine is furious that he went through his things while he was away? In hindsight, it was a pretty invasive thing to do, and besides, who is he to dictate how Aomine should live his life? Maybe he functions better with a sense of ordered chaos, maybe he has some kind of system to the clutter and Ryo just went and destroyed it. What if, in his efforts to be helpful and make up for inconveniencing Aomine, he just ended up making things worse?

He stays there, cowering in the shadow of the door frame, until the front door shuts and the sound of footsteps recedes. He only risks poking his nose out when he's sure the coast is clear.

True to form, Aomine went straight for the kitchen after class, bulky headphones still over his ears, nodding his head faintly to an unheard beat as he rummages through the fridge. Ryo lets out his breath, and quickly smuggles his laundry basket back into the closet, tucking it away like evidence of a crime. 

From outside the bedroom, he can hear Wakamatsu's raised voice, and then Aomine's softer, but equally indignant retort. Though he can't make out any of the words, he can assume there's some profanity involved. He sighs to himself. It’s true that rooming with Aomine is stressful for someone with his level of anxiety, but if he's honest, he's very glad he doesn't have to share with Wakamatsu instead. Because while it’s hard to deal with a temperamental, messy roommate prone to streaks of unpredictable behavior, he can't cope with shouting _at all_ , and for all the favorable aspects he could list about Wakamatsu's character, he's nothing if not loud. Ryo pities Imayoshi's ears. Perhaps he could invest in some good noise-cancelling headphones, like Aomine's got.

The microwave chimes, and a few moments later, Aomine comes into the bedroom, headphones now slung around his neck. Ryo recognizes the food on his plate as the chicken pad thai he himself made yesterday, of which Aomine is already partaking. Not that Ryo minds, or anything. He's been clear that he’s happy to share what he cooks with his housemates, he just kind of wishes Aomine would ask first… but he forgets about all of that when he sees the hand holding the chopsticks is still sporting a bandage around one finger. 

"I'm sorry!" Ryo yelps, almost involuntarily as their eyes meet. "I'm so sorry, Aomine-san!"

Aomine regards him for a second with sauce on his lip, a crease of confusion forming between his eyebrows. Then he swallows and steps fully into the room.

"What for?"

"For…" Staring after him with his heart in his throat, Ryo scrambles for the reason for his remorse, his mind going momentarily blank as he freezes in place and waits for a reaction. 

But Aomine either doesn't notice or doesn't mind the drastic change that's been made to his environment. He just takes a seat in front of his keyboard and sets his plate directly on it, like usual. Ryo lets out his breath. 

"I’m sorry Joker bit you," he says at last, much more levelly than he'd expected of his own voice. "I-I'll make sure the cage is locked up when I leave, so it doesn't happen again."

Aomine shrugs, "Uh, sure… it's fine, though."

Breathing out the rest of his relief, Ryo gives him his space, withdrawing carefully to sit at his own desk across the room. A sizable chunk of coexisting with Aomine is knowing when to leave him be. It works out well, because it's in Ryo's nature to skirt around people until he's certain his presence is wanted. 

For a few moments, Aomine just eats in silence, gulping down noodles like it's the first thing he's eaten all day. Given what he's observed of his habits, Ryo supposes it's pretty possible it is. The next time he speaks, Ryo whips his chair around in his haste to turn toward him. 

"You make this?" he's asking, taking another ravenous bite and continuing with his mouth full. "It's pretty good."

"Um… yeah, I did," Ryo says, twiddling his fingers as the glow that starts in his chest makes its way to his face. "I'm glad you like it."

"It looks nice in here, too." Gesturing with his chopsticks at the surrounding room, Aomine squints at the floor and then the walls, like he can't put his finger on what's changed. "Did you tidy up, or something?"

"Yes," Ryo beams, glowing from head to toe now. Maybe, he thinks, he was a bit too quick to jump to the worst-case scenario. Maybe he always is. Maybe, just maybe, he isn't such a disaster of a human being, after all. 

In his moment of validation, he imagines the proverbial clouds opening up ahead, chasing away his fears and doubts and bathing him in pure, rapturous sunlight. He feels born anew. He could almost sprout wings and fly.

"I uh… I washed your clothes, too," he says recklessly, probing for a tidbit more praise from such an unlikely source. "They're in the dryer right now."

Aomine stops mid-chew, and looks at him. "All of them?"

"Yeah, I mean… everything that was on the floor."

With a long, drawn-out sigh, Aomine slouches down into his chair and looks at the ceiling.

"D-did I do something wrong?" 

"Those were line dry only," Aomine says flatly. "You just shrank all my favorite shirts."

Ryo’s blood runs cold. 

"Ah."

Just like that, the light is gone, the leap of shining self-esteem shaking and tipping before it plummets into a screaming nosedive.

And, having flown entirely too close to the sun, all Ryo can do is close his eyes, fold his melted wings, and take the fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is no horror quite like accidentally shrinking your roommate’s shirts in the dryer. True story.
> 
> It’s about time we got some Aomine in there... and also references to the whole GoM being weird pretentious art school kids in this AU. Kise is an icon because I said so.
> 
> Speaking of weird pretentious art school, mine has just started back up, so updates might be a little slower now. I'm still head over heels for this story though, and I can’t wait to move it along. 
> 
> Your comments give me so much joy, you can't even imagine. Thanks for reading!!


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